


Forever's Just a Breath Away

by clgfanfic



Series: Houston Knights - Forever Series [4]
Category: Houston Knights
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The difference between life and death can be a single breath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever's Just a Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine One in Ten #1 under the pen name Duval.

          Lieutenant Joanne Beaumont waited for several of her detectives to settle down around the large oval table before she began.  "Okay, listen up," she started, raising her voice just enough to apprehend their attention.  "The Chief's passed a case from Homicide to us."

          "What's up?"  Carol asked, leaning forward slightly in her seat.

          Taking a deep breath, Joanne explained.  "Over the last four months there has been a series of assaults in the Montibello area."

          "Gay bashing?" LaFiamma asked.

          "Yes," Joanne said.  "The attacks started as apparently random beatings, but over the last month they've escalated to murder."

          She looked out at the four attentive faces.  "Two men are dead, three people have left Houston after being beaten, two are still in the hospital."

          "How many attacks are we talkin' total?" Lundy asked.

          "Fifteen so far, and the gay community is demanding protection and action from the city."

          "Don't blame 'em," LaFiamma replied under his breath.

          "Men and women?" Carol asked.

          Joanne nodded.  "Twelve gay men and three lesbians were targeted."

          "Homicide have any leads?" Lundy asked.

          "Nothing concrete.  There are between seven and ten assailants.  They dress in all black and wear ski masks.  Reports of the racial and gender composition of the group is contradictory.  They drive up alongside their victim, attack, and flee in the vehicle."

          "Any plate numbers?" Estaban asked.

          "No, and they're apparently using different vehicles for each attack."

          "Great," Carol sighed.

          "As of right now, you're the official Major Crimes Task Force for this one.  The Chief wants results yesterday.  He's taking a lot of heat from the press, the ACLU and gay and lesbian political groups."

          "What is the plan, Lieutenant?" Estaban asked.

          "The Chief wants one of you to go into the community undercover."

          "I'll do it," LaFiamma said without hesitation.

          Lundy turned in his chair.  "Now just—"

          "Fine," Joanne interrupted.  "To be honest, I was going to suggest LaFiamma be the one."

          Carol leaned over and squeezed the Chicagoan's arm.  "You're just sooo pretty."

          "Jealous?"

          Lundy watched the exchange, then swung back around to face Beaumont.  "But—"

          "It's settled," she said before Levon could argue.  "I have a copy of the case files for each of you.  Take them home, read them, see what you come up with.  We'll meet tomorrow at three and hammer out the details."

          She waited for each of the detectives to stand, accept one of the files and leave.  Lundy was the last, and he shot her a look that said he wasn't happy.

 _Well, he shouldn't be happy_ , she decided.  His partner was walking into a hornets' nest.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lundy and LaFiamma sat in a corner booth at Chicken's, arguing over their coffees.

          "Why you?" Lundy demanded.

          "You heard Legs," he replied with a seductive grin.  "I'm the pretty one."

          "Bullshit," Lundy said.

          "I'm hurt," LaFiamma countered.

          Levon's eyes narrowed.  "That's not what I meant and you know it."  He allowed himself a begrudging grin.  "You're about the prettiest thing on two legs I've seen."

          Joe smiled, but turned serious when Estaban walked over to join them.  "Am I interrupting?" he asked.

          "Naw," Lundy said.  "Have a seat.  Want some coffee?"

          Estaban nodded as he grabbed a chair from an empty table and used it to sit at the end of the booth.

          Lundy waved at Chicken, then pointed to his coffee cup.  The big black man nodded.  Grabbing another cup and a fresh pot of coffee, he carried it over to the table.  Setting the cup in front of Estaban, he filled it, then warmed up Lundy and LaFiamma's cups.  "Want anything to eat, Estaban?"

          "No, thank you."

          Chicken nodded and returned to work behind the counter, leaving the three detectives alone.

          "So, what can we do for you?" Lundy asked.

          Estaban looked at LaFiamma.  "You were very quick to leap into the lion's den, my friend."

          Joe shrugged.  "It was kinda obvious to me."

          Estaban nodded with a thin smile.  "You are the most… pretty."

          Looking across to his partner, Joe said, "See, I told you."

          Lundy cursed under his breath and leaned back.

          "Any ideas how you will do this thing?"

          "Nope," Joe said.  "Haven't read the files yet."

          "Well, whatever you decide, that is fine for me."

          "Appreciate that," Lundy said, confused.  Estaban was fishing for something, but he had no idea what, or why.

          Estaban stood and returned the chair.  "Have a good night," he told the partners, then left, leaving his full coffee cup sitting on the table.

          "What was that all about?" Lundy asked.

          "I don't know," LaFiamma said.  "But he was after something."

          "Think he found it?"

          Joe shrugged, then reached down and moved his copy of the thick file from the booth seat to the table.  He opened it, and after a swallow of coffee turned the first page.

          Knowing he wouldn't get anything else out of the man, Lundy dug into his own copy of the file, looking for anything that might help him keep his partner and lover safe.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The transplanted Chicago detective rolled over and stretched.  Birds chirped outside and he cracked his eyes open to see what time it was.  He moaned.  It was only 5:10 in the morning.

          Rolling over under the warm covers, Joe grinned.  Buried beside him, except for a shock of blond hair, was his partner.

          Nothing short of the alarm buzzing woke Lundy.  Unless it was an unusual squeak in the woodhouse, a whicker from the horses out in the barn, a mumble from LaFiamma's troubled dream, or…

          The Italian scooted closer, reaching out under the covers to stroke his fingers along Levon's naked back.  The sleeping Texan arched slightly, a soft moan escaping from under the covers.

          LaFiamma continued rubbing lightly across Lundy's back, his hand occasionally slipping over the man's side and tickling ribcage and midsection.  Another moan, this one slightly louder, erupted from the Texan, and he snuggled back toward LaFiamma.

          The exploration added bare arm, back of the neck, and hip.  Lundy's legs rubbed against one another, his breathing becoming more ragged.  LaFiamma's hand dipped over his partner's side, his fingertips teasing just above the patch of soft blond pubic hair.

          He grinned as Lundy's hips pressed forward, and let his hand glide lower, capturing the semi-hard cock in a gentle grip.

          Levon gurgled, his eyes blinking open.  "Boy, whatdaya think you're doin'?"

          Rather than answer, LaFiamma moved in closer, pressing his body along Lundy's, and kissing the back of the blond's neck.  His fingers closer tighter and pumped slowly.

          "Awwwww…" Lundy groaned, pressing his hips into LaFiamma's grip while the Italian tilted his head and nibbled on the Texan's ear.  "Gawd…"

          The phone rang.

          "Damn it," Lundy grumbled, rolling forward and grabbing the receiver.  "Hello?" he asked, then listened for several moments, before he said, "Right.  Yeah, about an hour.  I'll let LaFiamma know.  Bye."

          "What's up?" Joe asked, reaching out to pick up where he had left off.

          Lundy pushed the hands away and climbed out of bed.  "We have to get ready. There was another murder."

          "In Montibello?"

          "Yeah.  Woman, this time.  Twenty-three years old.  They stabbed her over thirty times."

          "God," LaFiamma breathed, climbing out of bed and trailing after his partner.  "These guys are sick, Lundy, really sick."

          "Yeah, and you volunteered to meet 'em, up close and personal.  You've got a death wish."

          "I do not."

          "You sure do," Lundy said, turning to face LaFiamma.  "Because if you do anything stupid, _I'm_ gonna kill you."

          Joe grinned, turning his partner around and giving him a light shove into the bathroom.  "I'll remember that, but right now I want to take a shower," he said.  "And, huh, see what we can come up with…"

          Lundy chuckled, and turned on the water as LaFiamma's hands began to wander over his back and bare butt.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Okay, let me make sure we're all clear," Joanne said, glancing at the notes she had taken while Joe and Levon explained their plans. "LaFiamma will move into the apartment of murder victim number two."

          "Christina Hart, the victim's sister, gave us a verbal okay over the phone last night," LaFiamma said.

          "And you'll be working at Montibello Video?" Joanne asked.

          "Start on Monday," LaFiamma said.

          "That's where Jeffrey Street worked?" Carol asked, checking through her file.

          "Right," Lundy said.  "Street's left Texas, but he and all of the victims used the store to rent videos."

          "The store's a block down from the apartment building, so I can walk back and forth," LaFiamma explained.  "All the victims were on foot."

          "Good, good," Joanne said.  "And your cover?"

          "Estaban, Carol and I'll be usin' an office in the building across the street from the apartment building.  LaFiamma's wire will mean we'll be listenin' in twenty-four hours a day."

          "Like hell," Joe said.

          "That's right," Estaban interrupted before an argument could break out.  "I for one do not want to listen to LaFiamma snoring all night."

          Carol giggled.  "Ditto."

          "Fine, you can cut the wire when you're in the apartment," Joanne said.  "But you take one step outside that door, I want you broadcasting loud and clear, understand?"

          LaFiamma scowled at his partner, but nodded his agreement.

          "Okay," Joanne said.  "I'll brief the Chief."  She met LaFiamma's steady gaze.  "Good luck, and be careful."

          Joe gave her a reassuring smile.  "I'm always careful, Lieutenant."

          "Damn it, LaFiamma, I'm not fooling around.  We've got three dead and thirteen injured.  You don't take this seriously and you'll be number seventeen.  I _don't_ want that to happen."

          Joe raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "Neither do I, Lieutenant.  Neither do I."

          "Okay," she said.  "Stay in touch."  The four detectives stood and headed out of her office.  "Levon," she called.

          "Yeah, Joanne?"

          "If you need more people, you ask."

          He gave her a smile.  "Believe me, I will."

          She nodded and watched him go, a vague sense of foreboding refusing to dissipate.  She sighed heavily, gathered up the file and notes, then checked her watch.  Thirty minutes before her meeting with the Chief.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          LaFiamma, carrying a suitcase and a box, made his way down the hallway toward the apartment.  The hall was wide, with tasteful pictures and plants.  The colors were earthy, but light, and the carpet thick enough to absorb footsteps.  All in all, exactly the kind of place he'd pick – if he could afford it.

          The door next to his opened and a young blond man stepped out into the hall. He smiled at Joe, his green eyes friendly.

          "Need a hand?" he asked.

          "Yeah, sure, thanks," LaFiamma said, indicating the box.

          "You moving into Terry's apartment?"

          "Yeah," Joe said, fishing into his pocket, looking for the key.  "I heard he was killed?"

          The man nodded.  "Yeah…" was the quiet reply.  "It's got us all pretty frightened, to tell you the truth.  You be careful."

          "Yeah, I will."  LaFiamma looked up and noticed the man's expression.  "Uh, sorry, was he a friend of yours?"

          "Terry Hart was everybody's friend."

          The detective nodded, unsure what to say.

          The man shook off the sadness and smiled at LaFiamma.  "Sorry, my name's Rory Manner."

          "Joey LaFiamma," the detective said, pulling the key out and opening the door.

          They stepped inside and Rory glanced around, his chin tightening.  He forced himself to study the carpet as Joe set the suitcase on the couch, then took the box and set it down next to the suitcase.  "Want some coffee or something?" LaFiamma asked.

          "Uh, no, thanks."  He met Joe's gaze and smiled sadly.  "To be honest, maybe after you make the place yours…"

          LaFiamma nodded.  "I understand."

          Rory walked back to the door and opened it.  "I'll see you?"

          "Sure," the detective said.  "Thanks."

          "No problem," Rory said, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

          With Rory gone, Joe picked up his suitcase and carried it with him as he checked the apartment, finding the kitchen, bathroom, and finally the small bedroom. It was sparsely but tastefully furnished with a double-sized bed, a five-drawer teak dresser and nightstand complete with stylish lamp and radio alarm.

          Nice, very nice, Joe thought as he set the suitcase in an empty corner.  He walked over and opened the closet, checking the wardrobe hanging there.  "Wow," he commented aloud.  "The man obviously had great taste."

          Walking back to the kitchen he rummaged through the cabinets and the refrigerator.  "So why can't you appreciate these kinds of food?" he muttered, knowing that his partner and lover would be listening in over the wire.

          Making himself a pot of coffee, Joe wandered into the living room.  He hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling like a voyeur, but curiosity soon overcame his reluctance, and he perused the room.  After several minutes LaFiamma returned to the kitchen for his coffee.  "It's really weird," he said to Levon.  "This guy's books, his music, his food, his clothes, man, everything.  It's like looking at myself.  It's… weird."

          He paced back into the living room, heading for the fireplace.  He chuckled.  "Don't know why they bothered putting a fireplace in this place, doesn't get cold enough to use it."

          Glancing at the photos, along the mantle he smiled thinly.  One of an older man and woman.  _Probably parents_ , Joe thought.  One of a pretty young woman.  _The sister?_   And one of Terry Hart and another smiling young man…   _His lover?_

          The realization that he and Terry Hart had a hell of a lot of things in common washed over the detective, and he forced himself to turn away from the photos.  Walking to the couch, he sat down and worked on the coffee for a minute before he said, "Christ, Lundy, if anyone knew about us– Either one of us could've been Terry, you know that, don't you?"

          He stood and carried the empty cup to the kitchen sink.  He rinsed it out and left it sitting on the counter.  Turning, he leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest.  "It's not right.  Whose damned business is it anyway?"

          A knock on the door stalled the one-sided conversation.

          Answering the door, he was surprised to find the young woman from the photo standing outside.  "Yes?" he asked.

          She smiled nervously.  "Um, I'm, Christina Hart, Terry's sister.  Can I come in?"

          "Oh, yeah, sure," Joe said, opening the door further. 

          She stepped inside and glanced around.  "Ah, you haven't changed anything?"

          "No, no," Joe said.  "I just got here a few minutes ago.  I'm Joseph LaFiamma."

          "And you're a detective?"

          He nodded.  "Major crimes."  He gestured to the couch.  "Would you like to sit?"

          She walked over and sat.  "I just stopped by to pick up some of Terry's stuff.  Stuff my folks wanted to keep.  Is that okay?"

          "Sure," Joe said.  "Can I help?"

          "I have a few boxes out in the hall."

          Joe stood and retrieved the two empty xerox boxes, carrying them over to the couch and setting them there.  Christina emerged from the bedroom carrying an expensive charcoal suit.  "It was his favorite.  Adam thought Terry'd want to be…"  She stopped, took a deep breath and finished, "…buried in it."

          LaFiamma nodded.  "It's nice."  He waited until she laid the cloths along the back of the couch before he added, "It's still hard to say, isn't it."

          She tried to smile.  "Yes.  Terry was so full of life.  He was bright, and caring, and talented…"  She laughed softly.  "Listen to me.  An adoring sister, huh?"

          "Nothing wrong with that," LaFiamma said, taking a step closer to the young woman.  He saw her chin tremble, and closed the gap between them, drawing her into a tender hug.

          She squeezed his back, holding on as the tears broke free.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sitting in front of the gas fireplace, LaFiamma silently admitted that it did indeed have its benefits.  Christina sat, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands.  She'd cried herself out, and he had her start the fire while he made the coffee, adding a shot-glass full of amaretto to it.

          Carrying that back in to her, he let her talk.  She told him about Terry, about growing up with an older brother who took care of her and convinced her she could anything she wanted.  About going to college with his help.  About being with him when he finally told their parents that he was gay.  About meeting Adam and knowing that Terry had finally met someone he could love for a lifetime.  About hearing about the bashing and being afraid that Terry or Adam might get hurt, but they had insisted that the attacks would stop.  About getting the call from Adam, seeing Terry in the hospital, being there when he died, Adam's attempted suicide…

          When she ran out of words she cried again.  He made more coffee, added more amaretto.

          Now they sat in silence, watching the flames jump.

          "I appreciate your help," she finally said quietly.

          "It's my job."

          She looked at him.  "I know, but you're– I mean, you're… you're like Terry."

          LaFiamma felt his cheeks go red and silently thanked fate that it was Lundy who was listening in.

          "Huh, yeah, sort of.  I mean, I like women, too."

          "But you have a lover, don't you."

          He nodded.

          "It must be hard, having to hide at work."

          "Sometimes," he admitted.  "Yeah, sometimes it's real hard."

          "Is your lover a detective, too?"

          Joey nodded.

          "Well, I still appreciate your help.  Not many people care what happens around here."

          "We do."

          Her eyes widened.  "Who?  The police?"  She laughed.  "That's a riot.  It took three men dying before they did anything.  It was only the threat of demonstrations in front of city government buildings that forced then to do _something_."

          "I'm sorry."

          She laughed again.  "Don't be sorry, Joey.  You'll see.  One day they'll know your secret and then you'll see."  Standing, she carried her cup to the kitchen, then walked over to the couch and picked up the suit.  "I have to go."

          "I'll call you a cab."

          "No, I'm staying in the building for a few days.  Until the funeral.  With Rory and Adam."

          "Oh," LaFiamma said, standing to escort her to the door.  "Stop by any time."

          "Thanks."

          "No problem," he promised, adding, "and don't worry.  We'll get these people."

          Christina nodded.  "I know you will, but please, don't get yourself killed doing it.  Terry and the others, they wouldn't want that."

          "I'll be fine."  He opened the door and watched her walk across the hall and enter Rory's apartment.  He closed the door and locked it.

          The phone rang and he walked over and scooped up the receiver.  "LaFiamma."

          "Hey, partner," Lundy's voice said softly.  "Doin' okay?"

          "Yeah," LaFiamma replied.  "I think so."

          "Sounds like a real nice lady," Lundy said.  "Real sorry about her brother."

          "If we're both so damned sorry, why the hell'd we wait this long to _do_ something?" Joe demanded.

          "I don't know," was the quiet reply.

          "Sorry, sorry," Joe said, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand.  "God, I wish you were here, ya know?"

          "I know.  I wish I was with ya, too."

          "Look, I'm really beat and I gotta start a new job tomorrow so I'm gonna go to bed, okay?"

          "Yeah.  You sure you're okay?"

          "No, but I will be."

          "Hang in there."

          "Night."

          "Night."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Wish me luck, Legs," Joe whispered to his new babysitter.  He knew Carol would be grinning, sipping on coffee and nibbling at a donut.  How she ate like that and kept her figure, he'd never know.

          He paused just outside the video rental store, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open, sighing as he stepped inside.  It had been a long, long time since he'd had a "regular" job…

          Two women stood, talking quietly behind a counter.  The pretty blonde was slightly taller than her red-haired companion, and thin.  The smaller woman was more athletic-looking, and attractive in a girl-next-door kind of way.  They both wore jeans and lavender t-shirts.  He guessed both were in their late twenties or early thirties.

          He walked over to join them, smiling.  "Hi," he said, then gestured to a sign in the front window.  "I see you've got a job opening?"

          Both of the women looked surprised.

          "Um, we do have an opening," the blonde replied.  "Counter help from noon to 8 during the week."

          "Great, I'd like to apply," LaFiamma said.

          The redhead slid an application to Joe and handed him a pen.  "Do you live around here?" she asked.

          "Yep, just moved in yesterday, the Santa Fe condos."

          The women exchanged looks.  "But you're new to Houston, right?" the blonde asked.

          "Yeah," Joe answered as he filled out the form.  "Moved here from Chicago."

          "I'm sorry," the blonde continued.  "But do you know anything about this area? About Montibello?"

          LaFiamma looked up and grinned.  "Yeah, I know.  It's the gay/lesbian area, right?"

          They nodded.

          "And there's been a series of bashings—"

          "Three people have died," the redhead interrupted.  "And the guy who used to work here was hurt pretty bad.  He moved back to San Francisco."

          "Well, I'm here and I'm not leaving, at least not for a while, and I need a job."

          The women exchanged glances again, the blonde finally saying, "Okay.  You've got a job then."

          "Great," Joe said.  "When do I start?"

          "Today?" the blonde asked hopefully.

          "Sounds good by me," he said, then grinned.  "Uh, I take it you're the bosses?"

          "Oh!" the blonde said, her cheeks turning pink.  "I'm Abby, and this is Bree.  We're the owners."

          "Great, it's a pleasure," Joe said, extending his hand first to Abby, then to Bree.  "I'll see you at noon."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After a long lunch, several cups of coffee, and two newspapers at the cafe across the street from the video store, Joe headed back to work.  Bits and pieces of the conversations he'd overheard echoed in his thoughts as he jogged across the street.  The recent attacks were by far and away the most popular topic of the local customers.  Theories ranged from a goon-squad made up of police officers to right-wing extremists to members of a Southern Baptist church near the community to other gays and lesbians trying to get media coverage.  All the ideas smacked of conspiracy, but given the situation, LaFiamma couldn't blame the people proposing them in the slightest.

          Entering the store, he smiled at Abby and joined her behind the counter.  After an hour of instruction, she turned him loose to take care of a customer.  After a flawless performance, the man left with his videos and Joe re-joined Abby.

          "So, is it always this busy?" he asked.

          She grinned.  "Just wait until five tonight, then you'll see busy.  It's a madhouse for about three hours."

          Joe nodded.  "Uh, do you mind a personal question?"

          "Depends," she replied.

          "Have you and Bree been together long?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

          Abby shrugged.  "I'd say we've been married for six years now, but we were together for four years before that."

          "Wow," Joe said.  "That's better than most straight couples I know."

          "Yep."  A cry from the back room interrupted her and Abby excused herself, returning a few minutes later with a baby in her arms.

          "And who's this?" Joe asked, wiggling a finger in front of the baby's face.  Tiny fingers curled around his finger and the baby cooed.

          "Joseph LaFiamma, this is Katey Ann, our daughter.  Katey, Joey."

          The baby kicked her feet, bounced happily, and gurgled.

          "She says she's pleased to meet you," Abby translated.

          "Oh?" Joey asked.  "I'm glad you understood that."  He offered to take the baby, and Abby passed her over.

          LaFiamma settled Katey into the crook of his elbow.  She stared at him for a moment, then decided he was an interesting new toy and swatted his nose.  Joe grinned, then looked to Abby, his expression giving him away.

          "I donated the egg, a gay friend of ours donated the sperm, and Bree carried her.  Next year Bree will donate the egg, our friend will donate sperm again, and I'll get to carry the baby."

          "That's incredible."

          "It was the only way we could come up with to ensure that both of us had a legal claim to her, just in case."

          "You know, I never thought about all the hassles—"  He stopped as another customer entered.  He left Abby with the baby and took care of the man, returning when he was though.

          Abby wiped Katey's nose with a tissue.  "I hope they catch whoever's doing the bashing.  I'm afraid when Bree and I walk home at night.  We have Katey Ann with us, and if they attacked us—"  She broke off and shook her head.  "Guess I shouldn't borrow trouble, huh?"

          "Nothing's going to happen to you and Bree, or Katey Ann," he reassured.  "I'll walk you home."

          "Thanks, but no.  It's not any safer out there for you, Joey.  I just don't understand why people hate us so much.  It took me a long time to agree to having the babies.  I didn't want them to be teased about having two moms, you know?"

          "Yeah, but they'll be raised with a lot of love, and that's the most important thing for a kid."

          "I hope so."  She lifted Katey off the counter and settled her on her hip.  "Well, I have to get back to the orders – it's a never-ending thing.  Think you'll be okay out here by yourself?"

          "Sure."

          "If you have any questions I'll be in the office.  Bree should be back in an hour or so."

          "Okay," Joe said, watching the pair disappear into the back room.  He heard the bell ring and turned around, surprised to find Carol walking over to the counter.  "What's up?" he asked her quietly.

          "Thought you'd like to know that they authorized increased neighborhood patrols through the area after dark.  It's not enough, but it's something."

          "Something," he agreed in a mutter as he studied the detective, knowing that there was something else bothering her.  "What really brought you in here?"

          Carol shook her head, then she said, "I don't know.  I guess I was just… mad about– About two moms having to be so afraid to walk home, you know?" she asked quietly.

          Joey nodded.  "Yeah, me, too."

          Bree walked in.  "Settling in okay?" she asked Joe.

          "Sure.  No problem.  Abby's in the office."

          "Thanks."  She glanced at Carol, then met Joe's gaze.  "Why don't you grab a cup of coffee.  It gets nuts here between five and eight.  I'll watch the front."

          "Sure," LaFiamma said.  "Thanks."

          Stepping around the counter, he escorted Carol across the street to the cafe.  They ordered coffee and after it arrived, settled into quiet conversation.

          "You know, when I was—"  She broke off and pointed at LaFiamma.  "This is a secret, need to know, so don't you go repeating this, Joseph LaFiamma."

          Joe raised his hands, palms out.  "Hey, it'll be just like talking to a priest."

          Carol grinned.  "You wish," she muttered, before continuing.  "When I was in junior high – and through my first year in high school – my best friend was Rachael Thompson.  She was like a sister to me."

          "Was she gay?"  Joe asked.

          Carol shrugged one shoulder.  "I wish I knew.  We… experimented a little."

          "All kids do that."

          "Maybe, but I liked it.  I mean, it seemed… right, I guess.  But I was really afraid of what my dad would say if he found out.  The more I thought about it, the more scared I got.  I finally told Rachael no more, and we stopped.  Rachael and I drifted apart after that."  Carol tore a corner of her napkin off and rolled the material into a small ball.  "She committed suicide in our senior year.  Sometimes I wonder if—"

          "It wasn't your fault," Joe said softly.

          "Maybe, but I wonder sometimes if I ended up dating boys just because I was afraid of my dad's opinion.  Now I think that maybe he'd understand.  Or at least he'd try."  She met his gaze.  "Don't get me wrong, I _like_ men.  I find pleasure with men, but sometimes I wonder about what it would be like, making love with another woman, living and being with someone like me…"  She laughed softly and shook her head.  "Sounds crazy, huh?"

          "No, it doesn't sound crazy," LaFiamma told her.  "Seems to me that the key here is the term 'making love.'  Love doesn't have all the hang-ups the rest of us do."

          "Amen to that," Carol replied.  "Look, I want to make sure those ladies don't get hurt."

          "Me, too."

          "So why don't you get back to work and I'll get back to the office building and meet Estaban."

          "Fine by me… Legs," he teased.

          She made a face, but let the comment lie.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Abby and Bree were right.  About ten after five the store was swamped and it stayed busy until eight when the women told him he could go.  He offered to stay longer, but they shooed him out.

          With a grin and a shake of his head, he stepped outside and scanned the street.  It was well lit for the most part, but there were occasional gaps at the alley entries.  He glanced across the street.  The cafe was thinning out before the late-night press.  He crossed the street, saying, "Yo, Estaban, I'm gonna grab a bite to eat, then walk home.  It's too early to bait anybody now."

          Finding a seat, he ordered and enjoyed his supper and several cups of strong coffee before venturing back onto the street about an hour and a half later.  Most of the stores were closed now, including the video store, and the sky was black, the streetlamps providing the only light.

          Taking a deep breath, he hunched his shoulders and started the six block walk to the Santa Fe condos.  "Hope you're awake," Joe said to Estaban.  "Here I go."

          Strolling along Kramer street, LaFiamma's gaze scanned the passing cars for possible assailants.  Everything appeared peaceful and secure, but he knew it was a false sense at best.  "Turning onto Hyland," he announced for Estaban's benefit three blocks later.

          The hair on the back of LaFiamma's neck prickled as he passed the spot of one of the beatings at the intersection, then turned onto Hyland, where the condos sat three more blocks down from Kramer.  The streetlamps were spaced further on the residential street, and large trees the city had planted at regular intervals broke up the yellow light.  Cars lined the street, parked in driveways and at curbs in front of houses, creating a multitude of hiding places for would-be attackers.  The lights from the windows did little to chase the threatening shadows away.

          Joe contemplated the fear locked behind each door.  Men and women, waiting for the next attack to come, wondering if they'd be the one.  A car turning onto Hyland a block down caught his attention.

          "Black van just turned onto Hyland from Denver," he announced to Estaban.

          LaFiamma watched the van pass the four-story office building housing two doctors, a dentist, CAP, chiropractor, and the detective's stakeout location.  He kept walking, trying not to speed up or slow down.  In the distance he saw Estaban step out of the office door and wait in the shadows by the door.

          The black van drew closer and Joe tensed, his fingers involuntarily moving for the two automatics that sat in the condo.

He could see two men in the van, watching him…

          "Fuckin' fag!" one of the yelled.

          "Freakin' fairy!" the other echoed.

          Joe listened as the van passed, waiting for the sound of breaks, opening doors, pounding footsteps, but there was nothing.  The van continued on.

          LaFiamma sighed.  "False alarm."  He watched Estaban lean back against the door.  "Better run the license plate, just in case, and see what we get."

          The detective gave him a quick wave, then stepped back inside the office building.  Joe reached the condo, entered his security code and stepped inside, enjoying the metallic snap as the lock slid back into place.  He was safe, but what about the rest of the people in the community?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          LaFiamma was enjoying a cup of hot tea when the phone rang.  "Yo," he said as he picked it up.

          "Ran the license plate on that van," Lundy said.  "Nothin'.  No wants, no warrants, just a couple of traffic tickets.  Belongs to Raymond Lee Tucker.  Works for Table Mesa Construction.  He was on his way home."

          "Just a couple of good old boys out to heckle the gays before they go home for dinner with the little woman," Joe said disgustedly.  "Assholes."

          "Yeah, sounds like it.  A couple of uniforms are payin' Mr. Tucker a visit.  Maybe it'll shake him up a little."

          "Great," LaFiamma sighed. 

          "Hang in there, Joe," Lundy said.

          "Yeah, I will, but I wish they'd just hit, you know?"

          "I know.  I miss you, too."

          Joey chuckled.  "That's a Texas-sized ego you got there, Lee-von."

          "Is that so?" the Texan replied and LaFiamma could imagine the grin on the man's face.

          "Yeah, it is, and you're right.  Wish you were here."

          "Me, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          For three days Joe spent his mornings working out, then went to work at the video store, ate dinner at the cafe, then walked home.  Three days and no attacks, no suspicious cars, no nothing.  He was getting bored and anxious.

          Working the counter at the store, he wished Abby would get back so he'd have someone to talk to.  Anything, to keep his mind off the waiting and his absent partner.

          He looked up as the front door bell rang.  "Hey, Abby, what's up?" he called.

          She walked over to join him and Joe noticed her bruised eye.  "The bashers?" he asked, reaching out to gently check the injury.

          She shook her head and let him inspect.  "No, not those guys."

          "Who?" Joe half-demanded.

          She met his concerned gaze.  "Calm down, Chicago.  I volunteer at the women's clinic over on Holly.  The last few days we've had a bunch of anti-choice yahoos protesting.  Some asshole took a swing at me when I escorted a client inside.

          "Someone getting an abortion?" he asked.

          Abby giggled.  "No, that's the funny part.  She wanted to have a piece of body piercing removed…"

          "Body piercing?"

          "Yeah, she had a ring in her labia, but her boyfriend was complaining that it was painful for him when they made love, so she was there to have it removed."

          Joe grinned, then chuckled and shook his head.  "You should've told the guy."

          "He didn't ask _why_ she wanted to go in, he just assumed it was for an abortion, like that's all women use a clinic for?"

          "Did they arrest the guy?" he finally asked.

          "I don't think so…  He had to go to the hospital."

          "Hospital?"

          She grinned.  "I hit him back… broke his nose."

          Joe laughed until tears stood in his eyes.

          "Oh, man, good for you…"

          She play-punched at him.  "Better watch out or Super Dyke get you, too!"

          He raised his hands in a gesture of submission.  "I surrender, I surrender."

          She patted his arm.  "I have to get the orders ready," she said.  "Would you get me a coffee?"

          "Sure."

          "Thanks."

          "Hey, it's the least I can do for the champ."

          She smiled and disappeared into the office.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After dinner Joe started for the condo, a slight smile on his face as he thought about Abby's adventure.  About half-a block after he turned onto Hyland, he noticed a dark van cruising slowly toward him.

          "Looks like the hecklers are back," he said to Lundy, who waited in the office building.  "You'd think these guys would've got the message after the uniforms stopped by."

          As the van drew nearer and Joe waited for the verbal assault, but there was none.  The side door flew open and several people dressed in black and wearing ski-masks poured out.  They were on top of the detective before he had time to react.

          The first two blows, one to his head, the other to his ribs, knocked LaFiamma down and he landed hard on the sidewalk.  The toe of a boot drove into his lower back, and another into his mid-section.  He heaved, then coughed to keep from choking.

          As the blows rained down, LaFiamma curled into a ball, using his arms to protect his head as best he could.  The attackers remained silent as they continued to strike.

 _Lundy, where the hell are you?_ Joe called silently, knowing that less than a minute had passed as he watched his attackers as best he could, trying to find something that would allow him to identify them later.

          A gunshot rang out in the still night air and the attackers scrambled back into the van, the wheels squealing and smoking as the vehicle bolted away.

          Lundy dropped next to LaFiamma, already keying the radio in his hand.  "Get an ambulance," he told Estaban.

          Setting the radio down, Lundy reached out and gently touched he partner's shoulder.  "Joe?"

          LaFiamma groaned, but didn't move.

          "Just lie still," Lundy said softly.  "Help's on the way."

          Estaban ran up to join the partners.  "Ambulance is in route.  Did you get a plate number?"

          "Yeah," Lundy said.  "Texas, B-E-G-2-2-3."

          Squatting down and grabbing the radio, Estaban called in the plate even as the distance wail of a siren reached them.

          Lundy looked up, noticing for the first time the people standing in a semi-circle, watching.

          "What happened?" one woman finally asked.  "We heard a shot."

          "Everything is under control," Estaban assured.  "We are police."

          "Under control?" someone else said angrily.  "Then why didn't you help that poor bastard?"

          Lundy's jaws ground.  "Where t'hell's that damned ambulance?"

          "It will be here soon," Estaban said, giving Lundy's shoulder a quick, light squeeze.

          LaFiamma moaned again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lundy paced the length of the waiting room for the umpteenth time.  Carol and Joanne both sat on the comfortable couch, trying to read magazines, but really just looking at the pictures.  Estaban sat near the window, watching the night traffic pass by.  After nearly an hour, he stood, halting Lundy's steps.

          "I need some coffee.  You look like you could use some, too, Lundy.  Come with me?"

          The Texan thought for a moment, then nodded.  "No use wearin' a hole clean through."

          "I'll come get you if we hear anything," Joanne assured.

          "Bring us back a cup?" Carol asked.

          "Sure thing," Lundy said as he followed Estaban out of the room.

          They walked in silence to the elevator, but when the doors slid shut, Levon turned to the man and asked, "What's up?"

          Estaban shrugged.  "Nothing."

          "Like hell," Lundy countered, but fell silent again when the doors opened to admit two orderlies.

          The silence stretched until they reached the cafeteria, bought their coffees and found a table in the far corner, away from the handful of people who sat at other tables, eating or sipping on coffee.

          Lundy managed three swallows before he demanded, "Estaban, what's on your mind?"

          The Mexican detective studied the cup for a moment before he looked up, meeting Levon's gaze as he said, "I know about you… and LaFiamma."

          "Know what?" Lundy asked, the sinking sensation in his gut telling him he already knew the answer to that question.

          "That you are lovers."

          Lundy felt his cheeks go red, even as he shook his head in denial of the truth.

          "It is the truth," Estaban said.  "But do not worry, my friend, I know how to keep my mouth shut, as you know as well."

          "How?" Lundy asked, knowing that if Estaban knew, others might as well.  Their careers could be on the line…

          Another shrug.  "I am not exactly sure."

          "Try real hard," Lundy urged.

          Estaban stirred his coffee, then took a sip before he said, "I had a cousin, Enrique.  We grew up together, like brothers.  He… liked men."

          "What happened?" Lundy asked when Estaban fell silent for several moments.

          "He left Matamoros and moved to Mexico City to live with others like him…"  He paused, stirring, then sipping at the cold coffee before continuing.  "He was happy there.  He had a lover, Hernando.  They were together for many, many months…"

          "And?" Lundy prompted again.

          "I do not know if you heard of the man the Mexican authorities called 'The Sheppard.'"

          Lundy shook his head.

          "He was a serial killer.  All of his victims were young homosexual men in Mexico City."

          "Including Enrique?"

          Estaban nodded.  "He raped his victims first, then castrated and gutted them and left them to die."

          Lundy swallowed hard as he shook his head.  "I'm real sorry about what happened to your cousin, but—"

          "I met Hernando at the funeral," Estaban interrupted.  "There was something in his eyes, the same thing that is in yours, my friend.  I think it is a war between love and fear."

          Lundy considered the words for a moment, then nodded.  "Yeah, I guess that 'bout sums it up."  He met Estaban's gaze.  "They could've killed him easy as not."

          "I know."

          "Lundy?"

          The Texan swiveled in his chair.  "Over here, Joanne," he replied, standing.

          "He's awake," Beaumont said as she reached them.  "He'd like to see you."

          "How is he?" Lundy asked.

          "As well as can be expected for someone who's got a few bruised ribs, a bruised kidney and a mild concussion.  Not to mention numerous contusions and several strained muscles."  She noticed Lundy's expression and quickly added, "But the doctor said it could've been a lot worse if you hadn't stopped them when you did. He'll be fine, Levon.  He just needs a few days to rest."

          "I want'a see him," Lundy said softly.

          "Room 212," Joanne said, calling after the retreating back, "but the doctor said don't wake him up if he's sleeping."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lundy pushed the door open and stepped inside the dimly lit room.  "Joe?" he said softly.

          "Yeah, I'm awake," was the sheepish reply.

          Levon walked to the bedside and studied his partner.  Bruises discolored his face and arms and his head was bandaged.

          "Looks worse than it is," LaFiamma assured.

          "Looks pretty bad."

          "Yeah, well, would've been worse if you hadn't got there as quick as you did."

          "Wasn't quick enough," Lundy argued.

          "We gonna fight or talk?" Joe demanded.

          Lundy's lips twitched toward a smile.  "Talk."

          "Good, 'm too damned tired to argue."

          Giving LaFiamma a moment to rest, Lundy walked over and moved the straight-backed chair from the corner to the bedside and sat down.  "Did you get anything we can use?"

          LaFiamma frowned.  "You're not gonna believe this."

          "What?"

          "They're kids."

          "Kids?"

          Joe nodded.  "Yep.  No more than seventeen or eighteen, if that."

          "You sure about that?"

          Joe looked up, meeting Lundy's skeptical expression.  "I've been lying here thinking about it for a while, Lundy, and I'm sure.  It was the way they moved… the way they stood…  I couldn't get a good count, but I'd say seven, maybe eight of them."

          "All boys?"

          "Couldn't tell exactly, but I think so."

          "Teens…"  Lundy shook his head.  "What the hell are they thinkin'?"

          "That it's cool to beat up fags," LaFiamma supplied.

          "Well, let's just see how cool they think goin' t'jail is," Lundy half-growled.  "I got a plate.  They're runnin' it now."

          "We've gotta get these punks, Lundy."

          "You can bet the farm on that one, LaFiamma.  It's a sure thing."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lundy tipped his hat to Abby and Bree as they exited LaFiamma's room as he entered.  Three days since the attack and his partner's face looked like some bizarre military tie-dye design.  'Natural cammo' as Joe had referred to it.

          Entering, the first thing that caught his attention was the huge vase of flowers that now took up one corner of the room.  "They must like you," he said dryly.

          LaFiamma smiled.  "It's my natural charm."

          "At least you didn't say 'manly' charm," Lundy teased.  _Better to keep it light for as long as possible_ , he thought.

          "So, any luck with that plate?"

          "Stolen," Lundy said, sitting down, his hat resting on his knee.  "They might be kids, but they're smart."

          "Damn," LaFiamma sighed.

          "How you feelin'?"

          "Better.  The ribs are still tender, but it looks like there's no permanent kidney damage."

          Lundy forced a smile and nodded.  "That's good news."

          The Italian's eyes narrowed.  "Lundy, what're you holding back?"

          The Texan feigned an innocent expression, but it was clear Joe was buying none of it.  He puffed his cheeks and studied his hat.  "You're gonna hear sooner or later…"

          "What?"

          "Rory Manner was killed last night."

          It took a moment for the name and realization to hit.  "Oh, shit…"  He thought about Christina Hart and what she must be feeling.  First her brother and now her friend.  "I'm going back."

          Lundy looked up.  He'd anticipated this.  "No."

          "Like hell," LaFiamma said, throwing back his covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

          "Damn it, LaFiamma," Lundy said, standing.  "The doctor said two more days, and two more days it's gonna be if'n I have t' tie you to that bed!"

          LaFiamma hesitated, the image the comment provoked apprehending his entire imagination.  He shot Lundy a grin.  "You're not that kinky, Lee-von."

          "Like hell," the Texan replied, using Joey's words against him.

          The Italian stopped.  His partner was in no mood.  "Fine.  Two days, but then I _am_ going back.  Cerrado."

          Lundy nodded.  "Fine.  But we're movin' the surveillance closer."

          Joe met the concerned gaze.  "You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

          "Good."

          "Lundy, I'll be all right."

          "I just want t' make sure."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Joe sat on the couch in the borrowed condo, watching Christina Hart packing up more of her brother's belongings.  She'd been at it for a little over an hour, the time passing quickly as they chatted.  He found that she was an appealing young woman, but she was married and he was committed.  Still, it didn't hurt to appreciate her attractiveness – inside and out – from a respectful distance.

          "You want some more coffee?"  he asked in a lull to their conversation.

          "No, thank you.  I have to get these boxes down to the car.  I promised Dan and my mom I'd be out of the neighborhood before dark."

          "Good idea,"  he said, walking to the door to hold it open for her.  "I'll get—"

          "The door.  And if you try to carry one of those boxes, I'll…"  She trailed off.  "Well, I guess your partner will think of some suitable punishment," she finished with a giggle.

          "Have you met Levon?"

          "No, but I'd like to when this is all over."

          "I might be able to arrange that."

          "Good.  And Joe?"

          "Yeah?"

          "Please be careful.  Terry and Rory wouldn't want you getting yourself killed for them, understand?"

          He nodded.

          Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek.  "Be right back for the other boxes."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sitting in the small office, Lundy listened to LaFiamma and Christine Hart talking.  His own thoughts strayed to the night his partner had been attacked.  He could hear the sound of the breath being knocked out of Joe, the heaving, the blows as they fell…

          He shook his head, forcing back the haunting memory.  It was _not_ going to happen again.

          The phone rang and he picked it up, expecting Joe.  "Hey, when're you goin' to ask her out on a date?"

          "Who?" Estaban replied.

          "Oh, Estaban, sorry, I thought you was LaFiamma."

          The detective chuckled.  "Jealous?"

          "Not exactly," he muttered, feeling his cheeks color.

          "I called to tell you that HPD has found the van."

          "Where?"

          "Down at the docks.  They found one print."

          "Did we get a match?"

          "Yes.  Donald Babcock, seventeen."

          "He _is_ just a kid."

          "A very wealthy kid, from a good school, Austin Academy.  He is on the football team and already has a scholarship for college."

          "Austin Academy, that's old Texas money," Lundy said.  "So why's he down here bashin'?"

          "I do not know, Lundy, but I plan to ask him as soon as we have a warrant."

          "You let me know what happens."

          "Of course."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After an unusually busy night – Abby guessed that everyone was feeling safer staying home watching movies – Joe decided to call it an early night and head straight back to the condo.  He waited for Bree to close and lock the door to the store, then smiled and said, "See you tomorrow?"

          "Yep," she said.  "I'll be in early.  Abby's taking Katey in for her regular check-up."

          "She's a cute kid."

          Bree nodded, running a hand through her short red-hair.  "You going for supper?"

          "Naw, I think I'll just head straight home."

          "Mind if I walk with you?"

          He shook his head.  "I'll be fine."

          "To be honest, Joey, I'd feel better if I did.  You're still not real strong…"

          "Really, I'll be fine."

          "Look, it's not a put-down of your manly strength, okay?"

          He smiled.  "I know," he said.  "Okay.  Come on."

          As they walked slowly down Kramer, he realized that he felt less comfortable around Bree than he did with Abby.  Glancing at her, he knew it was because she was more masculine in build and deportment.  Still, she was an attractive woman with a biting sense of humor and an infectious laugh.

          "What?" she asked, noticing his examination.

          "Nothing, I was just examining my own assumptions."

          "Oooh," she replied with a grin.  "Scary, aren't they."

          "Very," he admitted with a grin.

          Turning onto Hyland, LaFiamma felt his pulse quicken slightly and a sweat broke across his back despite the cool air.  He sucked in a deep breath.

          "You okay?"

          "Yeah, just a little jumpy, that's all."

          "I can imagine."

          They continued along in silence until the sound of a pickup coming up from behind them caused both to turn.  Seven kids dressed in black and ski-masks jumped up from the bed and over the sides, rushing them.

          "Run!" LaFiamma yelled.

          "Like hell," Bree said, driving her heel into the gut of the first to reach her.

          With more time to react this time, Joe plowed a fist into the face of one of his attackers.  Four of the boys surrounded LaFiamma, moving in and out, kicking him and hitting him with blackjacks.

          The three who attacked Bree had a more difficult time, but managed to land several blows while taking several at the same time.

          "Freeze!" Lundy yelled.  "Houston Police!"

          The kids broke, but did not run.  Lundy, Estaban, Carol, and three uniformed officers ringed them.

          "On your knees!  Hands on your heads!" one of the uniformed officers yelled and the kids responded.

          LaFiamma looked up at Bree, who grinned down at him.  "Are you okay?" she asked.

          Joey nodded.  "You?"

          "Few bruises, and one of them had a knife.  Got my arm."

          "Here, let me help," Carol said, taking Bree aside to examine the arm.

          Lundy helped with the kids, then joined his partner.  "You okay?"

          "Yeah, just roughed me up a little."

          "Looks like you're goin' back to the hospital," Lundy said when Joe swayed where he sat on the ground.

          "Ahhh…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lundy walked into LaFiamma's hospital room just in time to hear, "You're what?"

          "You heard right.  She's Chuck Norris trained.  A black belt," Abby said.

          Bree grinned.  "That's my other day job, teaching a women's and a girl's self-defense class at the dojo."

          LaFiamma laughed.  "Well, I'll tell you, I'm just glad you were there."

          "Me, too," Lundy said, drawing their attention.

          The two women exchanged knowing glances.

          "Abby, Bree, this is my partner, Levon Lundy."

          Lundy removed his hat.  "Pleased to meet you, ladies," he said.

          Abby and Bree both grinned.

          "What?" Lundy asked, wishing he dared to check his fly.

          "Sorry," Abby said.  "It's just that we thought Joey must be straight after we heard that he was a detective, but now…"

          "We think different," Bree finished.

          Lundy blushed a deep crimson.

          "Uh—"

          "Don't bother," LaFiamma said.

          "Sorry we can't stay longer," Abby said.  "But I promised Carol we'd pick Katey up by noon."

          "Come back?"

          "Of course," Bree said.  "See you tomorrow."

          "Okay," Joe said, waving as the pair left, both giving Levon a smile.

          "Why is it everybody who sees me knows about us?"

          The Italian chuckled.  "Don't ask me."

          "She okay?"

          "Bree?"

          "Yeah."

          "Fine.  Seven stitches in her arm and a few bruises.  But it was a good thing that you were waiting."

          "Don't thank me, tell Estaban.  He arranged for a tail on Donald Babcock."

          "I will.  Now, when am I getting out of here?"

          "A day or two."

          "What?!"

          "Talk to your doctor if ya don't like it, LaFiamma.  He said you re-scrambled what passes for brains and they wanna be sure your head don't swell."

          "My head…?"  He shook his head.  "I just love the way you use all them big words, Lee-von."

          "Whatcha want me to say, LaFiamma?  They're worried you might have a sub-dermal hematoma?"

          "Sounds better than scrambled brains."

          "A waste of time."

          "Meaning?"

          "You ain't got the brains God gave a goat."

          LaFiamma looked hurt.

          "I told you we'd be in place at _nine_ ," Lundy said when it was clear his partner had no idea what he was referring to.  "When did you walk back to the condo?"

          "After work…"  He looked up.  "Eight."

          "If it hadn't been for Estaban's tail…"

          Joey sighed heavily.  "I completely forgot."

          "Yeah, I figured as much.  You weren't healed up from the first time they rattled your cage, but this time you're stayin' right here until the doctor says you can go.  And if you argue I _will_ tie you to the bed this time."

          "Promises, promises," Joe teased, wagging his eyebrows.

          Lundy laughed.  "Wait for it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The next day Lundy sat with his partner in the cafeteria.  "So it looks like the D.A.'s gonna prosecute."

          "Good."  Joe forced another square of jello down.  "Did they say _why_ they did it?"

          Lundy nodded.  "And I quote:  'They were just fags.'"

          "Man, somebody ought to—"

          "They're going to prison, Joe.  Every last one of them, and all the money in Texas ain't gonna save them."

          "Damn straight."

          Lundy saw Estaban enter.  "Uh, one more thing.  Estaban knows about us."

          "He what?"

          "He knows."

          "How—"  LaFiamma stopped as the detective joined them.

          "I have good news."

          "What's up?" Lundy asked.

          "One of the boys, Mark Railson, has agreed to testify against his companions.  The D.A. is sure he can get a conviction."

          "I hope they all rot in hell," Joey said softly.

          "Amen," Estaban replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Joe dragged his feet as he followed Lundy into Chicken's.  He wanted to go back to the ranch.  He wanted to stretch out on the couch by the fire and watch Lundy mess with the blasted thing.  He wanted to reach out and…

          "Welcome home!"

          He looked up, his eyes wide.  Joanne, Carol, Estaban, Abby, Bree, Christina with a man who must be her husband Dan, and Chicken all stood along the counter.  The group parted, revealing a cake complete with candles.

          He grinned sheepishly and stepped up to see what was written on the top.  'Thank You!  Welcome Back!'

          "Huh, thanks," LaFiamma said.

          "Brilliant speech," Carol whispered as she brushed past, pressing a beer into his hand.

          He started to say something, but Christina stepped up and gave him a tight hug.  "Thank you," she said.  "And I know Terry appreciates it, too."

          He returned the hug.  "Just doing my job."

          She pulled back and grinned at him.  "And you do it so well."

          They both laughed.

          Dan stepped up and shook Joey's hand.  "I appreciate it, too.  Terry was a great guy."

          "I'm just sorry I didn't get to meet him."

          "He would have liked you," Christina said, glancing briefly at Lundy.  "Both of you."

          The pair moved off and Abby and Bree took their place.

          "Where's Katey?" LaFiamma asked.

          "Oh, this is past her bedtime," Abby said.  "But she sends her love."

          "How are you?" Bree asked.

          "Great.  When can I sign up for those classes you teach?"

          Bree giggled.  "I'll see what I can arrange."

          They both gave the detective a hug, then Abby handed him a knife.  "Now, get busy, Mister.  There's a cake to cut for all us hungry folks."

          "Yes, ma'am," Joe said, moving to carve the cake into equal pieces.

          Chicken reached across the counter and slapped his shoulder.  "Glad you're back.  Maybe now that partner of yours will get some sleep and start eatin' again."

          "I'll see to it," he assured.

          "Good work, LaFiamma," Joanne said.  "I'd like to stay, but I promised Brad a night of pizza and videos."

          "No problem, Lieutenant," he said with a smile.  "How's the case look?"

          "Tight," she replied.  "We're gonna win this one."

          "About time," Estaban said, passing by.

          "Get some rest this weekend," Joanne said.  "And I'll see you back at work Monday."

          "Monday?" Joey almost whined.

          "Monday," Joanne said sternly, then grinned, waved good-bye and beat a hasty retreat.

          The group settled at two of the booths, enjoying cake, coffee, and drinks.

          "It's a real shame you're a cop," Abby said.

          "Why is that?" Estaban asked.

          "He was great counter help," Bree explained.  "He's going to be hard to replace."

          Lundy laughed.  "Glad to see you've got a second career picked out."

          "Any time!" Abby replied.

          "We're really glad you did what you did.  I know it's just your job," Bree said.  "But it meant something that you did it for the community."

          LaFiamma paled slightly.

          "Now that we have the inside track on you," Abby said, "it makes more sense, but it means even more."

          "If you were—"

          "Thank you," Joey said, interrupting Bree before she gave him away.

          Lundy reached out and gave his partner's shoulder a squeeze.  "Don't worry.  Everybody here knows," he said in a slightly depressed tone.

          LaFiamma's eyes widened as he stared at his partner, then glanced around at the group… Abby and Bree knew… Christina and Dan knew… Lundy had said Estaban knew… and Chicken guessed a long time ago… and Carol?

          She grinned and wagged her eyebrows.

          Yep, she knew, too.

          "Oh, boy…"

          The group laughed.

          "Don't worry, your secrets are safe with us," Abby said and the rest nodded.

          "Eat up," Lundy said.  "Then it'll be time for you to go home and get some sleep."

          "Sleep?" Joey teased.  "That's _not_ what I had in mind."

          The laughter escalated as Lundy turned a deep red.

          "I'll get you for that," he muttered just loud enough for LaFiamma to hear.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          LaFiamma stretched out along the couch, enjoying the comfortable softness and the homey familiarity.  Nearby Lundy worked to build a small fire on the hearth.  As he watched the Texan, a different heat began to build in the dark-haired detective.

          "Hey, Lundy?"

          "What?" he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

          "I've been thinking about that idea of yours…"

          Lundy looked confused.

          "You know, the tying me to the bed idea."

          Turning back toward the fire, Lundy said, "You're just strange, LaFiamma."

          "No, I'm serious.  I mean, think about it."  Joey wiggled his butt further into the cushions and let the fantasy take shape in his thoughts.  "Me lying on the bed… naked with just a sheet over me… my hands tied to the brass headboard… you, sitting on top of me… pulling down the sheet… doing what you want…"

          Lundy stood and turned.  "LaFiamma, you're supposed to be restin'."

          "What could be more relaxing than just lying there, letting you do all the work?"

          A knock at the front door interrupted the negotiation.  Lundy stalked over and opened it.  Estaban stood outside.

          "Hey, amigo, come on in," Lundy said.

          The detective stepped inside, finding LaFiamma ensconced on the couch.  "It is good to see that you are following the lieutenant's orders and are resting."

          "But not for long," he murmured softly.

          Estaban grinned.

          "What's up?" Lundy asked.

          "I was on my way back from interviewing one of the victims and thought you would like to know – Donald Babcock's attorney is going to use an insanity plea."

          "Bullshit!" the Italian exploded.  "That kid's not crazy!"

          "Let the kid claim he's crazy.  Ain't a jury in the state gonna buy it, given his background and all those scholarships."

          "That's not the point!"

          "It sure as hell is," Lundy argued.

          "What if he gets off?" LaFiamma challenged.  "What if he goes to some hospital for a year or two and then gets out?  It isn't fair.  That kid should be facing death row.  They all should."

          "You're right, but it's not realistic.  If the D.A. can get a conviction—"

          "So we should let 'em walk just because they got money?"

          "I didn't say that, LaFiamma!"

          Estaban chuckled and dropped down into one of the chairs to watch.

          "What?" Lundy demanded.

          "Nothing," Estaban said, raising both hands to fend Lundy off.  "But I would gamble that you two even argue about who is going to be on top."

          The comment halted both partners in mid-thought.

          LaFiamma recovered first, and leveling an evil grin on the detective, said, "Estaban, sometimes we even argue about who's going to be on the bottom."

          Lundy choked, his eyes going wide and his face going pale, then a ruddy red.

          Estaban laughed and shook his head.  Wiping a tear away, he stood.  "I think that means it is time for me to go."  He walked to the door, then grinned at Lundy.  "Good luck, my friend.  I think you might need it."

          Lundy watched the man leave before turning back to his partner and lover.  "You can be one nasty sonofabitch, Joseph LaFiamma."

          "I know," the Italian said, wagging his eyebrows.  "But you love it."

          " _Sometimes_."

          Sitting up, Joe levered off the couch and walked over to join Lundy.  "So, what'dya say?  Want to go work up an appetite before we order some Chinese food delivered?"

          "Chinese?"

          "Yeah, I figure it's my first night home, I get to pick."

          "Oh, all right," Lundy grudgingly complied.  "But this time I'm using a fork, ya'hear?"

          "Whatever you want, but first…"  He leaned forward, giving Lundy a kiss that quickly escalated.  LaFiamma pulled back first, panting slightly.  "Oh, man… come on, let's go to bed, huh?  Makes my knees weak."

          Lundy chuckled throatily.  "Yeah, the doctor said you should spend most of your time over the next couple of days in bed.  I think I can arrange that."

          Joe followed Lundy back toward the bedroom.  "I was hoping that's what you'd say."

          "You're a damned jig-a-low, LaFiamma."

          "It's gigolo, gigolo," he corrected.  "One of these days I'm going to teach you Italian."

          In the bedroom, Lundy turned.  "Okay, how do you say: 'Shut up and get naked, boy'?"

          LaFiamma laughed.  "Like this," he replied, silently pulling his sweater over his head.

          Lundy reached out and unbuttoned Joey's jeans, then tugged them down over the narrow hips.  "Mmmm," he sighed when he saw the growing erection, "maybe tying you up ain't a bad idea after all…"

 


End file.
